Just a Date
by DinoDina
Summary: It's Ianto's birthday, which means one thing: it's time to celebrate. Janto oneshot. Fluff.


"Love me."

Ianto smiled wryly at Jack. "I _do_ love you."

"So come back to bed."

"And leave the Hub to the Weevils?" Ianto laughed. "I don't think so."

"Ianto." Jack sat up, a judgmental frown on his face. "You deserve a lie-in."

"I know."

"So why aren't you taking it?"

"I'm a realist." Ianto shrugged. "I know that the moment I relax, the morning I say 'Oh, it's my birthday, I deserve something good', the Rift is going to dump a—well—_something_ on us that's going to make the sky rain blood or something. So no rest for the wicked. And all that."

Jack leaned forward and stretched out an inviting hand. The pout ruined any seduction the pose was supposed to have—not that Ianto needed any sort of special incentive to pay attention to Jack—but he put up enough of a fight for Ianto to lean down and kiss his forehead.

"I'd suggest you get dressed," he said with a fatalistic finality. "Who knows what's going to happen."

There was good reason he approached the day with a grain of salt. At times, Ianto thought he was cursed. And he wasn't even counting the Cybermen and the general trauma of working at Torchwood. It was the small things—when it rained on Christmas, instead of snowed; when the traffic piled up when he was the one driving the SUV, something Owen had always laughed at; the fact that when it was his rotation to clean the Weevil cells, they were more crowded.

The fact that he hadn't had a smooth birthday since the moment he'd started at Torchwood, over fifteen years ago.

Lisa had planned a great day, once. Young and in love, they approached the world with an optimism he now found hard to even imagine. Not even an alien rampage put them off moving the celebration to the following year.

"What's the worst that _can_ happen?" Jack asked—naively, Ianto thought—as he joined him in getting ready.

Ianto looked at him darkly. "You weren't there last year when _John Hart_ teleported into the Hub for ten minutes."

Jack shivered with disgust, but still said, "Only for ten minutes."

"Longest ten minutes of my life."

"Now you're just being dramatic."

Breakfast, Ianto decided with a roll of his eyes, and moved towards the kitchen.

Jack followed, not deterred by the lack of response. "Just give it a chance!" Froth went flying as he gestured emphatically with his toothbrush.

"Give me strength," Ianto muttered as he turned on the coffee machine. He wasn't quite sure if he was referring to Jack or the birthday, but any aid would suffice.

It wasn't that he didn't _like_ his birthday, but being excited seemed like tempting fate. Ianto had no desire to deal with official delegates from another world or a monster hell-bent on conquering the Earth. He didn't even want to deal with the ordinary Weevils and paperwork.

But Torchwood waited for no man—nor did it give them proper days off.

"You can get me flowers if you want." Ianto turned to Jack, who still looked put out, and smiled. "But I'm still getting to the Hub early. It's just another day. The date just happens to be the one I was born on."

.oOo.

Jack understood, in a way, why Ianto didn't want to make a big deal out of his birthday. In Torchwood, only two holidays truly mattered: birthdays and the New Year. Each year, he was terrified of reaching the celebration of either one with a smaller team. It would mean his failure.

For Ianto, the holidays celebrated the continuation of his own life. As far as Jack was concerned, it was an important celebration. But Ianto no doubt saw them as a life on borrowed time—Jack would have agreed, in his shoes.

Shaking his head, Jack looked again at the booking information on the website. They might be on borrowed time, but Ianto would only turn thirty-six once.

He deserved a party. A big one. But Ianto had been right—between Weevils, the Rift, and UNIT bureaucracy, there was no time for anything fancy. The last thing Jack wanted was for Ianto to set-up and clean up his own birthday party. People did that, of course, but Ianto deserved more.

Ianto deserved the world.

In the absence of such decadence, however, Jack would settle on dinner.

Satisfied, he clicked to make a reservation for the evening.

Ianto's pessimism and Torchwood's track record couldn't even compare to Jack's love. He laughed. It was a dramatic thought. Love was dangerous—but love was also real, and Jack wasn't about to miss it because he periodically was scared. Ianto was worth it.

He tapped his earpiece. "Ianto."

_"Yes?"_

"Be ready to leave by half-seven."

_"Half-seven?"_

"Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

_"Very funny."_ Ianto paused. _"I know exactly what you're doing, Jack, and it won't work."_

Jack laughed. "We'll see about that."

One stray Weevil later, Jack was brushing the sleeves of his coat and preparing to meet Ianto on the Hub's main floor.

Being not only houseproud but with a great—and incredibly sexy—self-confidence, Ianto always dressed well; for all his pessimism about his birthday, he was never afraid to ruin a suit. Jack knew his salary, as his boss, but it was still a hedonistic life.

It was a hedonistic life he fully indulged in, as well, Jack noted with a smile as he ran his eyes down Ianto's body. Even living together, getting dressed together, didn't ruin the pleasure of seeing Ianto looking good at the end of the day.

Jack offered a hand. "Shall we?"

"Of course." Ianto took it, not even giving Jack a look of doubt. "Where to?"

"You'll see."

Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"No surprise parties, I promise." Jack began leading them out of the Hub. "Just dinner. Us, some candles, some flowers. Wine. Nothing extravagant - "

"You're always extravagant."

"Nothing _too_ extravagant, then." Jack allowed the interruption took a second to peck a kiss to Ianto's cheek. "I promise. Just a quiet night that happens to be on your birthday. Think of it as just a date."

"Just a date," Ianto echoed, but nodded, and allowed Jack to take him to his first real celebration in years.


End file.
